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dwgm
Chapter Six: The Truth of the Matter
When James and his sister had taken their leave (James assuring Jack he would be back in time for a cup of coffee before they should have to set out for the lawyers’ office in the morning), and William Weatherby and Daisy had gone out to investigate the back garden and the stables, Elizabeth said, “Tom, you mustn’t be cast down by this news of Hartfield’s suit. I don’t believe Anne favors him as greatly as Lady Caroline implied. Anne missed you dreadfully, all the time you were gone – I can’t tell you how many times she visited us in the early days of your voyage, hoping that Will and I had received more news of you than she.”
Tom made a face. “I know I should’ve written more often.”
“Water under the bridge now, lad,” Jack said, shaking his head.
But Elizabeth went on: “I know she looks forward to seeing you again. I spoke with her just last week when she came here to dinner with her parents.”
“Did she say that?” asked Tom, hopefully.
“Not in so many words. But she did ask about you, and it was quite evident to me. I believe you’ll be delighted with her– she’s such a pretty thing, and sweet as she was when you were children, for all her aunt’s efforts these last three years.”
George gave a bark of laughter. “Caroline Norrington was old cattish even when she was a girl. No need to take her tittle tattle to heart, lad.”
Tom tried to smile. “I suppose I’m lucky to be here in time. We could so easily have been out another year and she would’ve been married already.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Jack, standing, giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder, then stretching elaborately. “Lord, all this junketing about the countryside’s made me devilish stiff and tired. If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll go up and take a rest for an hour or two. Are we in the same rooms, George?”
“Yes. The sheets were aired just yesterday, and there’s a vase of Harry’s favorite roses. Are you going up as well, sister?”
“I thought I might,” she said.
“I thought you might, too.” George grinned, for she did not seem at all weary, but on the contrary, had a sparkle in her eyes and blush on her cheek as she took Jack’s hand and allowed herself to be led from the room. George looked at his brother. “It would’ve been against nature to keep them apart, you know.”
Weatherby sighed. “I daresay. I have to admit, they still appear to be unreasonably happy, even after all these years.” And he smiled when Elizabeth rose and came to him, bending to kiss his cheek.
“Heaven will reward your indulgence,” she said. Then she turned to Will. “I believe it’s in Anne and Tom’s interests that we aid them by whatever means possible. What do you say to a shopping expedition? And perhaps we can stop at Gunter’s for an ice on the way back. Father and Uncle George, will you take charge of Daisy and Will for us?”
“Wilby, you mean?” George chuckled.
“We’ll be happy to do so,” Weatherby said, “but don’t spoil your appetites –Anatole and Louise were discussing Possibilities when last I saw them, and dinner is bound to be a feast tonight.”
Tom said, “Aye, we haven’t been on ship rations precisely, not since we ran across that French merchantman off Tenerife – that’s where mother got that gown, by the way, and a good many others, too, wait until you see. But Anatole is never happier than when he has a well-stocked market at his disposal, and his happiness generally results in ours.”
*
After a memorable “rest”, a bath (which resulted in a little more “rest”), a superlative dinner that included enough wine and brandy to alleviate anxiety, followed by a good night’s sleep, Jack Sparrow nearly felt ready to meet with his late father’s solicitors, though he was very glad he wasn’t going alone. Lawyers were tricksy buggers, and there was already too much about England that made him squirm.
He recognized that these uncomfortable feelings were left over from his youth, but it made little difference. He had to continually remind himself that he was Captain Jack Sparrow, Scourge of the Spanish Main and the East Indies, and not that half-starved cartographer’s apprentice, or the child that had been hustled aboard a ship to serve as a cabin boy less than a week after his mother had been laid in her grave.
All these thoughts Jack kept to himself as the carriage bowled along toward the Temple, half listening to Weatherby and James telling Tom about the sights as they passed – and really, London had improved in the last five years. Or perhaps it was merely that it was a perfect spring morning, with the sun shining for a change.
Wainfleet’s solicitors had a most impressive set of offices, and only Weatherby refrained from staring about like a bumpkin. But Jack and his companions were shown into the chamber of one of the senior partners almost immediately, and Harold Clarence greeted Jack most affably.
“How do you do? Be seated, all of you, pray. I must tell you, Captain Sparrow, the pictures I’ve seen of you quite fail to do you justice,” said Mr. Clarence with a smile.
“Pictures?” Jack frowned.
“On the various handbills and pamphlets in which you’ve been mentioned over the years. As your father’s solicitor I felt it my duty to keep abreast of your activities, and I fancy I have a complete collection of everything that’s been published in England, as well as much that originated in the West Indies and in the American colonies. Exciting but discouraging work, when we were both younger and you… er… strayed from the narrow path, so to speak. I rejoiced when you reformed your way of life on your marriage, and after the last twenty years of honorable service to your country there can be no doubt that you are not only the legal heir to the Wainfleet barony, but a most worthy one. I congratulate you.”
Jack gaped a little.
Weatherby cleared his throat and said, “If we can be frank for a moment, my brother-in-law was under the impression that his parents were never legally married – that he is Lord Wainfleet’s natural son.”
Clarence nodded. “I am aware. I feel a profound grief, Captain, that you have spent your life, heretofore, in ignorance of the true state of affairs. Indeed, I did attempt to remonstrate with your father upon one occasion in regard to this issue, but with no success. However, what is past is past, and it is now in our power to move on and see that you succeed to your true and just inheritance.”
Jack was still gaping, but now managed to speak. “You mean it’s not all a hum?”
Clarence’s brows rose. “A hum? If by that you mean that you believe us to have brought you back to England under false pretenses, I can assure you it is no such thing. But you needn’t take my word for it. All the papers are in order, as you will soon see.”
The next hour was taken up with examining said papers, including a certificate of marriage signed by both parties as well as both a Catholic priest and an Anglican minister and the required two witnesses.
Clarence said, “The witnesses were your mother’s servants, and though they and the minister have passed on, the priest is still alive and living in a quiet way quite near your residence in Lincolnshire. The circumstances of the ceremony were most irregular, but entirely legal. But your grandfather was alive at the time of the marriage, and would have disinherited your father rather than countenance his alliance to a papist. I believe your father would have openly acknowledged his marriage if your mother had not passed untimely, before the death of the old lord. I do not know your father’s precise reasons for sending you away so precipitately—“
“I know his reasons,” Jack said, bitterly. “I look like her – or I did back then.”
Clarence nodded. “Certainly that is one of the reasons. But I fear… or rather know that your father thought to remarry, and thought too that his first marriage could be set aside with little trouble. In the event, however, he could not bring himself to carry out this plan, and in his later years he gave us instructions in your regard, which are contained in his will. If you will bear with me, I will read the document to you in its entirety.”
It was a lengthy piece, some fifteen pages, but what it boiled down to was that Jack inherited nearly everything.
He felt very odd, and suspected he was quite pale under his tan, by the time Clarence read the last page, the mix of pain and elation like nothing he’d ever experienced. That his father had done such a thing, treating his mother so; that they’d both kept the truth from Jack. That Jack was a peer: Lord Wainfleet. That Tom would inherit.
Jack became aware that Clarence had stopped reading and was looking at him in some concern, and that James was saying, “Jack? Are you all right? Can we get you something?”
Jack pulled himself together. “A bloody great bottle of rum might help,” he quipped, trying to smile and mostly succeeding.
James laughed, and patted his shoulder, and Weatherby said, “Well, well, it’s not every day that one’s life goes quite so topsy turvy, is it?”
“Too right,” Jack said, and took a deep breath. Then his eyes went to his son’s, and he grinned at Tom’s stunned expression. “What do you think, son?”
A whole gamut of emotions crossed Tom’s face, but what he said was, “We’re still pirates at heart?”
Jack was aware from Weatherby’s groan that he was probably rolling his eyes, but Jack’s heart swelled, and he clasped his son’s hand. “Always, lad. Always.”
*
Elizabeth and Will had taken William Weatherby and Daisy to Hyde Park for an airing, and even George had deigned to join them, but Harry had declined their invitation. She knew how very much disturbed Jack had been about his “inheritance”, for months now, and she wished to be home when he returned from seeing Wainfleet’s lawyers. Hopefully once all was made clear to him he would enjoy London more, and England in general. Harry had her own set of unpleasant memories associated with this blessed plot, but they were nothing to his, and she deeply regretted the necessity of reopening old wounds.
She had spent the last hour in the bright morning room, sewing, and Louise had just brought her a cup of tea and a piece of seedcake when she heard the distant sounds of carriage wheels slowing on the cobbles, followed by the hearty voices of her men. Quickly securing her needle in the sleeve of the shirt she’d been repairing (one of Jack’s favorites), she jumped up and hurried out. Jack, Weatherby, James and Tom were just being let into the house when she reached the foyer, and she immediately sensed their elation, in spite of Jack’s bemused expression.
“What happened? What did they tell you?” she demanded, holding out her hands.
Jack took them in his, then pulled her close, but said nothing, and it was Weatherby who broke the astonishing news.
“Well, sister, it appears that your friends have been strangely prescient. The esteemed men that George erroneously styles land sharks assure us that you really are Lady Harry.”
Continued in Chapter Seven: Vauxhall
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Date: 2011-01-06 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 04:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 05:53 pm (UTC)I'll bet Caro the Witch will be all over Tom for herself now.
*smacks lips at all the plotting*
Felaine
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Date: 2011-01-07 04:30 am (UTC)Thank you so much for reading and commenting!!
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Date: 2011-01-06 06:02 pm (UTC)Wonderful chapter! :)
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Date: 2011-01-07 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-06 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 04:35 am (UTC)You will tell me if something is very off, right? I would truly appreciate it.
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Date: 2011-01-06 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-07 04:41 am (UTC)So glad you're enjoying! More in the morning. Thank you so much for commenting!
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Date: 2011-01-07 12:50 am (UTC)I hope you like it! I made up the original characters since I don't know what they look like, they are all young here.(Harry is a teen)
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Date: 2011-01-07 04:42 am (UTC)*Hugs!*